Dinner At Casa De Crazy
by Red Witch
Summary: Another dinner at Cheryl's Place. Another round of insane arguments and disturbing conversations. Be thankful your dinners aren't like this.


**The disclaimer telling all of you that I don't own any Archer characters has gone out to dinner. Just more madness from my tiny little mind. **

**Dinner At Casa De Crazy **

"Another day, another dinner at Casa De Crazy," Ron groaned as he went to the table. "What are we having tonight?"

"It's Stir Fry-Day," Cyril said as he put down the prepared foods. He was wearing an apron.

"Isn't today Tuesday?" Ron asked.

"Hey it's my turn to cook and it's my best dish," Cyril admitted. "Cut me some slack."

"Cyril does do a good stir fry," Pam admitted.

"I also put out some different kinds of taco and wraps in case anyone wants to use them," Cyril said. "Like a fajita."

"Make your own dinner. No problem," Ron remarked as he sat down to eat with Pam, Cyril, Ray, Cheryl and Krieger. "No Lana or the kid?"

Pam was already eating. "She said she had some kind of function to go to connected with the school."

"Good excuse," Ron remarked.

Cheryl thought. "She does make a lot of them. So **that's** why she had the kid! Ugh. I wouldn't do that though. Babies are so gross. Well human ones anyway. I guess that Baby Yolo is okay."

"Baby **what now?"** Ron did a double take. "Is that a star war thing?"

"It's from a new TV show based on Cosmic Clashes," Pam explained. "Takes place after the main Cosmic Clash story but before the new one. And in it there's this new baby creature that looks exactly like this other character called Yolo."

"Spoiler alert!" Cyril snapped. "I haven't seen it yet!"

"Neither have I but it's been all over the internet for **weeks!**" Pam snapped. "Anything after a few weeks, making the national news and has an ass load of merchandise in the stores is fair game."

"So, Yolo is a baby now?" Ray asked. "That's weird."

"It **can't **be Yolo!" Krieger snapped. "Yolo **died** at the end of the first Cosmic Clash trilogy! It's obviously a baby of whatever species Yolo was! A completely **different **character!"

"Then why do they call it a Baby Yolo?" Cheryl asked.

"Because nobody knows what the hell species Yolo was in the first place!" Krieger told her. "It's just easier to call it Baby Yolo."

"Maybe it's Yolo's kid?" Ray asked.

"How the hell could Yolo have a kid?" Krieger snapped. "Yolo was living on the moon of Dangnabitca for decades!"

"He got there in a **spaceship,** didn't he?" Ray snapped. "Maybe he went off world to do some shopping or see an old girlfriend?"

"He could have met up with a space hooker," Pam shrugged as she ate. "What? Accidents happen! Ask Archer. Or Trinette."

"Yolo did **not **sleep with a space hooker!" Krieger snapped.

"How would **you **know?" Pam asked.

"I could see that happening," Cyril nodded.

"Maybe in a deranged fan fiction but not in the actual series!" Krieger gave him a look.

"This whole conversation sounds pretty deranged," Ron groaned.

"I'm just saying Yolo's backstory is kind of vague," Cyril said. "Anything is possible."

"There was a female that looked like Yolo on the Council of Elders," Pam realized. "Maybe she was Yolo's wife? Or girlfriend?"

"Yolo was the head of the Council of Elders!" Krieger snapped. "He didn't have a girlfriend!"

"Again," Pam looked at him. "How would you know?"

"I know because the council members weren't **allowed** to have relationships!" Krieger snapped.

"Yeah," Ray scoffed. "Like nobody ever broke **that** rule before."

"I bet it was a space hooker," Cheryl remarked as she ate. "Space hookers will do it with anyone."

"Some of them would probably think Yolo's species a turn on," Ray added. "Especially if it was a hooker of Yolo's species."

"Do you **hear yourselves**?" Krieger snapped. "Do you people hear how **crazy** you all sound?"

"They never have before," Ron remarked. "You really expect them to do it now?"

"It's **not** Yolo or Yolo's kid! Okay?" Krieger snapped. "It's a completely different character! COMPLETELY DIFFERENT! End of discussion!"

Ron thought. "Maybe this Yolo guy **did **have a kid, but…That kid was the one who slept with the space hooker? Maybe this is Yolo's **grandkid?"**

"Hey!" Pam said, eyes widening. "I never thought of that!"

"Seriously, Ron?" Krieger groaned.

"Just saying," Ron said. "That hooker thing isn't exactly unheard of. That happened back in the old days with Old Man McCutchen. Let's just say both he and his kid were in diapers at the same time."

"Don't forget," Ray added. "That council was destroyed completely before the first trilogy even started! So technically Yolo was free from the council's rules and could do whatever he wanted."

"If I was free to do whatever I wanted after centuries of celibacy I wouldn't hide on a stupid swamp planet," Cheryl said. "I'd get my ass to the nearest brothel…"

"THERE IS NO WAY IN HELL YOLO WOULD GO TO A SPACE HOOKER!" Krieger screamed as he grabbed his dinner knife and started to wave it around. "STOP TALKING CRAZY!"

"YOU ARE NOT MY TALKING SUPERVISOR!" Cheryl grabbed a knife and started to wave it back.

"WILL YOU TWO IDIOTS PUT THE GOD DAMN KNIVES DOWN?" Ray shouted.

"MAKE US!" Krieger waved his knife at Ray.

"YEAH!" Cheryl did the same. Then pointed it at Pam and cackled.

"You really want to go?" Ray picked up his knife. "I'll go bitch! I'll go!"

"Go ahead!" Pam picked up her knife and pointed it at Cheryl. "See what happens?"

"Why is it that we always go for the God damn knives every time we sit down to dinner?" Cyril shouted.

"Because you take away our guns **before** dinner," Pam pointed out.

"Duh," Cheryl rolled her eyes.

"Can we just not do this please?" Ron begged. "Seriously! I just want to eat."

"Oh fine," Cheryl sighed as they put their knives down. "If you want to be boring…"

"I'd enjoy boring once in a while," Ron groaned.

"Why don't we talk about something else?" Ray suggested. "Something that won't make us want to stab each other?"

"I have my conversation cards," Cyril spoke up.

"He said something that **wouldn't** make us want to stab each other," Pam looked at Cyril.

"I'm sure we can think of something," Ray said.

"That would imply you people **thinking** at all," Ron groaned as he ate. "I have a question which I already regret asking. How's business doing?"

"Not as bad as you think," Cyril sighed. "We're getting about twenty thousand dollars to investigate an arson case."

"Really?" Ron was stunned. "That's good! What arson case?"

"I haven't decided yet," Cheryl admitted. "Depends on which business tanks the most at the end of this fiscal quarter."

Cyril looked at Ron. "It's going to be due to faulty wiring in case you were wondering."

"I wasn't," Ron was stunned.

"Congratulations Ron," Ray said dryly. "You can now be charged with conspiracy."

"Thanks a lot," Ron groaned. "Dare I ask what else is going on with your lives?"

Krieger shrugged. "Depends if you want to be charged with an accessory after the fact."

"I withdraw the question," Ron groaned. "My lawyer can only handle so much."

Pam thought. "You know what? We should go on vacation!"

"Aren't your entire lives basically one big vacation?" Ron asked.

"If only," Cyril sighed. "I know I could use one."

"Testify," Ray nodded.

"We should take a cruise or something," Pam said.

"We **tried that** remember?" Ray pointed out. "The ship sank."

"That's because it was one of Cheryl's relatives' boats," Pam reminded him. "And that smuggling drugs into Mexico fiasco."

"You did **what**?" Ron did a double take.

"It didn't work," Cheryl told him. "We threw everything overboard when the Coast Guard came to rescue us. God those fish were so plastered. He, he, he…"

"Watching fish get high is a lot more fun than you think," Krieger admitted. "I admit I've gone into an aquarium once or twice and slipped something-something into the fish food. Nothing harmful! Just an experiment or two. Man, you have **not **lived until you've seen a giant grouper trip out!"

"Break out the cards, Cyril!" Ron groaned. "Before I end up as the prosecution's star witness!"

"Okay," Cyril took some cards out of his sweater vest pocket.

Pam looked at him. "What? You now carry those things wherever you go?"

"They're good for ice breakers!" Cyril protested. "Oh, here's a good one. If you could pick anyplace to die where would you pick?"

"That's a cheerful little topic," Ron groaned.

"My ideal death is at the ripe old age of a hundred and two," Ray admitted. "After a very strong bout of lovemaking with my young lover."

"Me too!" Pam said. "That or on the toilet. It's a toss-up."

"As long as I don't die in a horrible gruesome lab experiment, I'm good," Krieger admitted. "I'm not picky."

"Really?" Cheryl asked. "I would have thought that would have been a dream scenario for you."

"How would **you **want to go?" Krieger challenged.

"Choked to death by a firefighter," Cheryl sighed. "After I have sex with him. After I committed the arson to get the firefighter to have sex with me…"

"That's disturbing," Cyril said.

"How would you go?" Pam asked.

"Oh, the old age sex thing," Cyril said. "But in an elevator."

"Giving a double meaning to the words going down," Ray quipped. "Or triple if you consider the lives we've lived."

"How would you like to die Ron?" Pam asked.

"Not for a long time!" Ron snapped. "Pick a different topic Cyril. I don't want to give this group any ideas!"

Cyril read another card. "If you were on an African safari, what would you absolutely see for your trip to be complete. Oh, that's easy. A lion. Eating Archer…He, he…"

"Aren't you a cheerful little maniac?" Ron groaned.

"I'd love to see some elephants," Ray admitted.

"Me too," Pam said.

"Don't you see one in the mirror every day?" Cheryl teased.

"Well what do you want to see Neck Bone?" Pam snapped.

"The entire Savanah on fire!" Cheryl grinned.

"No surprises there," Krieger groaned. "I just want to see all sorts of animals. And collect dozens of new and exciting DNA samples."

"I'd go to Africa if it meant I wouldn't see you people," Ron groaned. "Next question!"

Cheryl spoke up. "Did I tell you people about my uncle who wanted to be a lion tamer?"

"But he was bad at it," Pam interrupted. "And not only did the lions eat him, they ate a bunch of other relatives as well. We **know** that one."

_"Seriously?"_ Ron did a double take.

"Cheryl's family has more oddities than a circus tent," Ray groaned.

"Yeah. But I'm thinking of a different uncle," Cheryl spoke up. "Carson Basketville."

"Isn't that the family that murdered each other?" Pam asked.

"That's **Baskettunt,"** Cheryl corrected. "The Basketvilles are on my mother's side of the family. On the maternal side. Anyway, Great Great Uncle Carson was a believer in conservationism and protecting wildlife. And was extremely against hunting. He even got foxhunting banned in his state."

"That definitely doesn't sound like a Tunt," Cyril remarked.

"Yeah my mother's side of the family has some real weirdoes," Cheryl waved. "A lot of them were do-gooding idiots. Huh. That explains Cecil."

"Let me take a wild guess at what happened to your uncle," Ray sighed. "He went on safari and got eaten by lions. Am I right?"

"Nope," Cheryl shook her head. "Cannibals in the South Pacific."

"Really?" Pam asked.

"To be fair Great Uncle Carson probably should not have slept with the chief's daughter and tried to steal their land," Cheryl shrugged. "And call the Chief and his people savages and a lot of other derogatory names. Uncle Carson loved animals but boy was he a huge racist."

"Kind of just desserts if you think about it," Pam remarked.

"In Uncle Carson's case," Cheryl remarked. "Just appetizers."

"You ever wonder what it would be like to eat a person?" Pam thought aloud.

"NO!" Ron, Ray and Cyril said at the same time.

"Oh my God! I don't mean in a Hannibal Lecter type of thing," Pam said. "I'm just saying if this person who was a foodie died of natural causes and his or her last wish was for his or her body to be eaten by people. To be the gift of food for once…"

"I see where you're going with that," Krieger nodded. "I mean if the person wanted to be eaten that's totally different."

"Exactly," Pam nodded. "It's like those people who donate their bodies to science or that travelling exhibit that shows off body parts."

"No, it's not!" Ray said, horrified.

"Woodhouse said people tasted like pork," Cheryl spoke up. "Long pig."

"That's not what my failed clones tasted like," Krieger said. "I'm guessing anyway."

"Read **another card** Cyril!" Ron snapped.

"While some of us still have our appetites!" Ray groaned.

Cyril remarked. "Bet you guys are glad that I have these cards **now, **aren't you?"

"Just read one!" Ray snapped.

Cyril did so. "If you could be CEO of any corporation in the world, which one would you be?"

"Disney," Pam said.

"Disney," Cheryl said.

"Disney," Ray said.

"Disney," Ron said.

"Disney," Krieger said.

"And I also say Disney," Cyril said. "That one was a no-brainer."

"You are the one who picked it," Pam smirked.

Cyril read another one. "What is the most money you have ever found lying on the ground in a public place?"

"Does it have to be on the ground?" Cheryl asked. "Because I find money on tables all the time when I go out to restaurants. And sometimes in jars."

"Those are **tips** you crazy kleptomaniac!" Cyril snapped. "I'm talking about money you just find on the ground."

"When you say _find on the ground_…?" Pam asked using quotation marks.

"Actually, finding on the **actual ground**!" Cyril snapped. "It's not a euphemism!"

"It's not?" Cheryl asked. "Are you **sure?"**

"YES!" Cyril snapped. "I'll go first. The most amount of money I found on the ground was a dollar and thirty-three cents in the parking lot of a shopping mall in my town when I was a kid. Put that money in my savings account. What? It was found money! Might as well make it work for me!"

"You surpass boring on so many levels…" Pam said.

"Okay Smart Ass," Cyril snapped. "What's the largest amount of money you found on the ground? NOT STOLEN!"

"Okay! Jesus!" Pam waved. "Fifty bucks."

"Fifty bucks?" Cheryl blinked. "Just lying around on the ground?"

"Well it was one of the days Archer was passed out drunk," Pam admitted. "Remember the company picnic where he brought those strippers? And Ms. Archer got so pissed she knocked him out? Well some of the money he gave the strippers must have fallen out…"

"I remember that," Krieger said. "I only got thirty dollars."

"Me too," Ray said. "But that's not the most amount of money I ever found on the ground. That would be the time I found a hundred and thirty-seven dollars."

"How did you find a hundred and thirty-seven dollars just lying around on the ground?" Cyril asked.

"Years ago, I crashed this party at this mansion," Ray admitted. "A lot of rich people were pretty drunk. And very careless. And apparently stoned out of their minds."

"They were so stoned you found a hundred and thirty-seven dollars on the ground?" Cyril was stunned.

"And a nice wallet," Ray admitted. "Some good jackets too. And a gold bracelet."

"Well that beats the thirty dollars I found," Krieger admitted.

"And the fifteen dollars I found in that bush in one of my relative's mansions on Easter," Cheryl admitted. "It was supposed to be like an Easter egg hunt only with cash instead of eggs. But the servants stole most of the money…"

"That beats all of us," Cyril groaned. "Amount wise."

"Not me," Ron said.

"How much did you find?" Ray asked.

"Five hundred smackers," Ron said.

"Holy Spend Snacks!" Pam gasped.

"How the hell did you find five hundred dollars on the ground?" Ray was shocked.

"Funny story," Ron said. "This was years ago back when I was a young punk running around with a gang. We'd steal a hubcap or two. Maybe a car? And then another car. Well one day I find this wallet on the ground. It turned out it belonged to this mobster named Two Time Tommy."

"Why'd they call him that?" Cyril asked.

"He was an obsessive compulsive," Ron said. "He said everything two times. In fact, he did pretty much everything two times. If he shot somebody it was two times. If he stole from somebody it was two times. Not to mention he was sleeping around with everything in a skirt."

"Ah double meaning," Krieger nodded.

"Did you give the wallet back?" Cyril asked.

"And get **shot?"** Ron snapped. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm an old man! Of course, I didn't do anything stupid like that. I did what any smart kid did. Pocketed the cash and threw the wallet in the East River when I was sure nobody was looking."

"And Two Time Tommy never found out?" Cyril asked.

"Didn't have time to," Ron said. "See the reason the wallet was on the ground was he got picked up by Five Time Freddy and his goons and it must have fallen out in the scuffle. I think you can guess where Five Time Freddy got his nickname. A few years later they hauled Two Time out of the East River with some cement shoes. And ironically his wallet had come back to him. Don't ask me how. A fish must have picked it up or something."

"That's some story," Ray whistled.

"These cards are great," Cyril said. "We're finding out a lot about each other!"

"More than some of us want to," Ron quipped. "Can we give Twenty Questions a break and talk about something normal? Like the weather?"

"It sure has been hot as balls lately," Pam admitted.

"Well we are living in California," Cyril told her.

"I know but it's been really hot," Pam said.

"She's not wrong," Ray admitted. "I'm from the south and even I'm sweating like a hooker in church."

"I've been thinking about making a machine for that," Krieger mused.

"Oh sure," Cheryl drawled. "Then have GI Joe get on our asses! Think again Mind-Bungler!"

"You know I don't like to be called that!" Krieger snapped. "Lady Torch!"

Cheryl responded by throwing some food at Krieger's face. "OW!" Krieger snapped. "Oh yeah?" He started throwing food back.

Of course, soon the entire table was throwing food at each other. "Here we go…" Ron groaned as the gang had a full-blown food fight. "When will I learn to just go **out **to eat?"

Ron took a deep breath. "KNOCK IT OFF!"

Everyone stopped throwing food. "Why is it that **every time** I go out to eat with you maniacs…?" Ron groaned. "**Every time**! With the stupid arguments! And the food fights! And the knives! Just once I would like a nice peaceful meal! How about silence? Can we eat the rest of the meal in silence? PLEASE?"

Everyone did so. "Now I know what it's like to eat with children," Ron groaned as he picked at his food. "No, I think some kids are better behaved than you lot."

"That's not being silent," Cheryl spoke up.

"Ugghhh…" Ron groaned as he went back to eating. They ate in silence for a few minutes. Until…

"You know that Baby Yolo could be a clone?" Cyril mused.

Krieger blinked. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"You **should have!"** Cheryl said. "You of **all people** should have!"

"Was the clone grown in a tank or in a space hooker?" Pam asked.

"What is it with you people and _space hookers_?" Krieger snapped.

"What do you have against space hookers?" Ray snapped back.

"No more space hooker talk!" Ron shouted. "Not that I'm a prude but…"

CRASH! CRASH! CRASH!

"Aw man," Krieger looked around. "PIGGLY! If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times! Stay in the lab! Not the kitchen!" He ran away from the table.

"That pig never listens," Ray remarked.

"Damn," Pam looked at her watch. "Hey Fire Crotch our favorite show is going to be on tonight!"

"Ski, Shoot, Sing?" Cheryl asked. "Oh my God! I love that show! Last week one of the contestants shot the judges!"

"Yeah we gotta get ready," Pam said. "We're going to need all cell phones we can get our hands on so we can vote in our favorites!"

"Ooh! I like that show!" Ray said. "I'm in!"

"Why not?" Cyril sighed. He got up with the others and they left the room.

"Aren't you cleaning up?" Pam asked.

"I cooked the damn meal," Cyril snapped. "You clean up!"

"Someone else will do it," Pam shrugged. "Maybe Piggly will eat the leftovers?"

Ron looked at the mess before him. "I'm **not** cleaning this up." He left the table.

He then decided something. He took out his phone and called a number. "Mallory? It's Ron. How are you holding up? Uh huh. Nothing much. I just had dinner with the Crazy Crew and needed to talk to someone sane. Or as close to it as possible."

"Don't get me wrong, the food is great. But the conversation leaves a lot to be desired. Not to mention the food and knife fights."

"What were we talking about?" Ron asked. "Arson. Conspiracy. Crime. Death. Drug smuggling. Drugging fish. Safaris. Cannibalism. Pigs. Space hookers. Clones. Yeah, the usual."


End file.
